


Rewards

by kiyala



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Motorcycles, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4704479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kise loves Kasamatsu, and he also really loves Kasamatsu's motorbike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rewards

It's mid-afternoon and Ryouta is tired. He's been working since early in the morning, going from one photoshoot to another, his agent taking advantage of the break between varsity basketball tournaments to fill his schedule with so much work that it doesn't feel like a break at all. 

He hasn't even gone for his morning jog today. His day's been filled with careful poses, holding still, shifting slightly to the left—no the right—no try the left again—and he's filled with energy that has nowhere to go. He's glad that his work day is over, though. It's almost three o'clock and aside from a half hour break to eat, he's constantly been on the go. The stylist for this shoot is kind and understanding, though, gathering up the outfits Ryouta was modelling in once he comes out of the change room, finally back in his own clothes. 

He's thanking everyone for their time, bowing deeply, when they hear the dull roar of an engine outside. 

"What was that?" the photographer asks, raising an eyebrow as she turns to the open window.

"That," Ryouta says, unable to keep the grin off his face, "is my boyfriend." 

He can't help the rush of fondness, and he sees his agent turn away with a small smile. She's used to it by now; she's been Ryouta's agent for a long time, has been there for the whole ride, has had to pull him back in when he starts waxing poetic.

The photographer smiles at him. "Well, we won't keep you waiting, then."

"Thank you," he gives them all one final bow, nodding at his agent on his way out. 

It's bright outside, warm with a gentle breeze, and Yukio's parked his bike by the door, leaning against it with his helmet in his arms. He's wearing a fond grin for Ryouta, gloved hands taking his and pulling him close once he's within reach.

"Hey." Yukio's lips are warm and soft against his. "How was your day?"

"Long." Ryouta wraps his arms around Yukio, breathing him in. "Tiring. Better, now that you're here." 

Huffing with amusement, Yukio presses a kiss against the curve of Ryouta's neck. "Well, you're done now and I'm taking you home. On the bike, like I promised."

"You mean _bribed_ ," Ryouta teases, laughing softly as he takes his helmet out of the storage compartment on the back of the bike. "Come on. Let's go home."

 

* * *

 

Ryouta is not a morning person. Especially not when his alarm is going off at five in the morning and he needs to get up for work when he could just be staying in bed with Yukio.

Their morning had gone like this: with Yukio turning the alarm off with one hand, pushing the blond hair out of his boyfriend's face with the other, kissing his forehead and murmuring, "Time to wake up." 

Ryouta, tucking his head under Yukio's chin and holding onto him, grumbled. "I don't want to. I want to stay right here."

"Go to your photoshoots," Yukio murmured, "and I'll pick you up afterwards. On the bike." 

Ryouta groaned loudly, even as he sat up. "You can't bribe me like that." 

"Not a bribe." Yukio sat up too, pressing a kiss to Ryouta's shoulder. "It's a reward."

Ryouta is not a morning person, but Yukio always knows how to make it better.

 

* * *

 

"Are you ready?" Yukio asks, when they're both sitting on his bike. He's resting his hand on the handlebar of his bike, and the stretch of black leather over it is distracting, catching Ryouta's attention every time he sees it. He nudges Ryouta with an elbow when he doesn't get an answer. "Ryouta."

"Yeah." Sitting up a little straighter, Ryouta clears his throat. He has his arms around Yukio's sides, hands resting on his thighs. He squeezes gently, chuckling as Yukio tenses up beneath his touch. "Sorry. I keep getting distracted by how good your hands look."

"You can get as distracted as you want," Yukio tells him, tugging at Ryouta's hands, pulling them away from his thighs and settling them around his waist instead. "But you really don't want to distract me while I'm driving." 

"I know." Ryouta gently bumps their helmets together before pulling his visor down. "I'll be good."

Yukio starts his bike then, and there's something about the loud purr of the engine that goes right to Ryouta's stomach every time. The engine is loud, the vibrations of it running through his entire body, and it's _hot_. 

Yukio says that he got his bike for the convenience, and Ryouta is thankful for it, thankful for the fact that it makes his devastatingly gorgeous boyfriend even more attractive, thankful for the fact that it gives them a good excuse to be pressed up against each other like this, because Ryouta will use as many excuses as he can.

The breeze is cool around them as they drive through the traffic and Ryouta loves the speed of it, loves how close he is to the road, how much more connected he feels to it on a bike than he ever has in a car. He tightens his grip around Yukio as they speed up, but doesn't let go once they slow down again, stopping at a set of traffic lights.

"You okay?" Yukio asks, lifting his visor and turning his head slightly, not enough to look over his shoulder, but enough that Ryouta knows the words are directed at him.

"Yeah," he replies, his voice already a little breathy. He thinks he hears Yukio chuckle. 

"You really like the bike, don't you?"

Ryouta leans forward, pressing his chest to Yukio's back. "I like riding with you." 

Yukio covers Ryouta's hand with one of his, squeezing gently. The feel of the soft, worn leather makes Ryouta gasp softly, and judging by the way Yukio repeats the movement but slower and more deliberate, he's probably heard it. Ryouta links his fingers with Yukio's, holding on until the light changes and they need to start moving again. 

Curling his fingers against the material of Yukio's jacket, Ryouta shuts his eyes, focusing on the feel of the wind whipping past him, the vibration of the engine between his legs. Yukio is amused by how worked up Ryouta can get just by riding on the bike and it's even worse now, when he's full of energy that he hasn't been able to let out. He tries not to fidget, but Yukio knows him well enough to pick up on the restlessness, even without looking.

At the next light, Yukio reaches to Ryouta's thigh, pressed against his, and rubs soothing circles through his jeans. "We're nearly there."

Ryouta squirms this time, breath hitching as he rubs against Yukio. 

"Are you—?"

"Yeah," Ryouta sighs, rubbing himself against Yukio again, intentionally this time. His hand slides down between Yukio's legs, but stops short of its mark. "Wait, you said not to distract you."

"Consider me _distracted_ ," Yukio mutters, but Ryouta can hear the grin in his voice. 

"Like you said," Ryouta tells him, hands settling back to where they were before. "We're nearly there."

The problem is, _nearly there_ is never close enough. By the time they pull into Yukio's parking spot by their apartment, Ryouta has gone from restless to impatient. He takes his helmet off as Yukio kills the engine on his bike, then waits until his helmet is off too before tugging him backwards by his jacket. 

Ryouta means to turn Yukio around to kiss him, but his impatience gets the better of him. He runs his tongue along the side of Yukio's neck instead, kissing it. With a soft sigh, Yukio instinctively tilts his head to the side, giving Ryouta more space to do as he pleases. Ryouta bites down gently, feeling the full-bodied shudder as it makes its way through Yukio. Like before, he slowly slides his hand down between Yukio's legs, cupping the growing bulge there, rubbing gently. 

"I'll take care of this for you," Ryouta murmurs into Yukio's ear. 

"Not here." Yukio places his hand over Ryouta's, stopping him. "Let's get inside first." 

Yukio leads the way and Ryouta follows eagerly. He smiles when Yukio reaches behind him, linking their pinkies together as they walk up the stairs and to their door. Yukio lets go to dig his keys out of his pocket, opening the door and putting his helmet down in its spot near the entrance before he toes out of his shoes. Ryouta follows suit, putting his helmet beside Yukio's, then the same with his shoes. Then, Yukio's hand is reaching out, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him into another kiss. 

"Please," Ryouta breathes against his mouth, and Yukio nods tightly, gloved hand stroking over the back of his neck.

"Bed. Go." 

Grinning, Ryouta leans in for one last kiss before he heads towards their bedroom. He shrugs out of his jacket and lets it drop to the floor, then takes his shirt off too. He's lying back on the bed when Yukio joins him, no longer wearing his jacket. Ryouta smiles when he notices that Yukio is still wearing his gloves, then grins wider when he feels them on him, starting at his hips and then sliding their way up to his chest before going back down again. 

"Look at you," Yukio breathes, settling between Ryouta's legs. 

"Or better yet," Ryouta murmurs, taking Yukio's wrist and guiding his hand further down. "Touch me." 

"I'm not getting these gloves dirty," Yukio tells him, even as he strokes Ryouta's clothed erection. "They're my only pair." 

Ryouta arches off the bed, pressing into the touch, making a mental note to get another pair of gloves for Yukio, specifically for this. "Yeah. Okay. But I need you to touch me more than I need you to keep the gloves on, right now."

Yukio smiles slowly, tugging his gloves off and tossing them onto the bedside table before he undoes Ryouta's fly. He tugs as Ryouta lifts his hips, pulling his jeans down to his knees. Yukio gets to his feet, taking his clothes off while Ryouta kicks his pants off, and then they're back in each other's arms. Yukio presses Ryouta into the bed, pushing his knees apart to make space for himself between them. Ryouta reaches for the lube they have tucked under their pillow, pressing it into Yukio's hand with a needy sound. 

With a low chuckle, Yukio takes the bottle, slicking his fingers. Ryouta presses his head back against the pillow, moaning in approval as Yukio pushes two fingers in at once. The stretch feels amazing and it's exactly what he needs right now. He loves Yukio a little more, purely for the fact that he always knows exactly what to do. 

"I could fuck you like this," Yukio murmurs, sliding his fingers in and out of Ryouta in a slow, steady rhythm. "Or you can ride me. Whichever you'd like." 

Ryouta smiles, propping himself up on his elbows to press a kiss to Yukio's lips. "I really, really want to ride you." 

Yukio nods, like it's the answer he was expecting. He pushes a third finger into Ryouta, stretching him further. "Can you reach our condoms?"

Reaching over to their bedside table, Ryouta pulls one out of the box. Yukio rolls them over, so he's the one lying on his back with Ryouta kneeling over him, taking the condom out of Ryouta's hand and opening it, sliding it onto himself. Ryouta pours some lube into his hand, stroking it over the length of Yukio's cock, smiling down at him. Holding himself up on his knees, he holds Yukio's cock by the base, carefully guiding it into himself. 

"Ryouta—" Yukio rests a hand on Ryouta's stomach, thumb gently stroking over the skin beneath it. Ryouta lets out a shaky breath, sinking down onto Yukio's cock until it's all the way in. 

He takes a moment, shutting his eyes and just enjoying the feeling of Yukio being inside him. He rocks his hips gently, breath hitching as Yukio's cock shifts and he takes a moment to adjust to it before he picks up his pace. He braces himself against Yukio's stomach, lifting himself up and then fucking back down, whimpering with how good it feels. 

Yukio's hands are on his hips, fingers digging into his skin, just following his movements rather than guiding them. Ryouta can see the sweat trickling down his neck and leans in, licking it away, whining when the change in position has Yukio's cock sliding into him at a different angle. It drags over his prostate and he cries out, trembling, fucking back desperately, needing to feel it again. 

"Yukio—" he gasps, hips jerking. 

"Hold on," Yukio pants, getting his feet flat on the bed so he can thrust properly. It takes him a moment to find the right angle, but then he does and Ryouta screams this time. He thrusts harder, wanting more. Yukio moans, thrusting into him in return and they're good together, _so good together_ , Ryouta gasps, wrapping his fingers around his own cock, stroking in time with their movements. 

"Come with me," Ryouta murmurs, clenching around Yukio, fucking himself down harder. He can feel his orgasm building, but Yukio's making those quiet, little moaning sounds that mean he's close too. "Together, Yukio. Come on, come on…"

He feels Yukio tense up beneath him, biting off a curse as he comes, just as Ryouta spills over into his own hand with a moan. 

" _Yeah_ ," Ryouta sighs, lips curling up with satisfaction as he blinks down at Yukio, who is watching him with so much adoration that Ryouta can't hold his gaze, having to turn away as his smile grows.

"Come here," Yukio's voice is soft, his touch gentle as he pulls Ryouta down into his arms. 

"We should get cleaned up," Ryouta says reluctantly, even as he leans into Yukio.

"Don't need to do that right now." Yukio snorts quietly. "I know you. I know we're not done yet. You're too restless for that."

Ryouta chews on his lip, feeling his face heat. "If you don't want to keep going—"

"Listen to me," Yukio tells him, kissing him gently. "I'm saying we're not done. You want more, and like hell I can't keep up."

When Ryouta smiles this time, it's wicked. "If you say so. I think we should test that theory."

Yukio pulls out of Ryouta, throwing out his condom and reaching for another one. "Bring it, Kise."

Laughing as he's rolled over and pressed into the mattress, Ryouta wraps his arms around Yukio and holds him close. He's lucky that he has this, and he's immeasurably glad he does. He looks up at Yukio, meaning to put that into words, but Yukio's gaze is warm and understanding, like he already knows. 

Ryouta simply pulls him back down into another kiss instead, sighing happily as their lips curve against each other in matching smiles.


End file.
